


Before the Dawn

by solemnwar



Category: Alien: Isolation (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, and then this shit happens, malfunctioning synthetic, relationship hasn't even gotten off the ground, why am i terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7794883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solemnwar/pseuds/solemnwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sevastopol, Amanda was expecting to go her remaining days avoiding Weyland-Yutani and accompanied by Samuels... but sometimes life doesn't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dawn

 

> _“If only night could hold you, where I can see you, my love_
> 
> _Then let me never ever wake again_
> 
> _And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away_
> 
> _We'll be lost before the dawn_
> 
> _Somehow I know that we can't wake again from this dream_
> 
> _It's not real, but it's ours_
> 
> _Maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away_
> 
> _We'll be lost before the dawn.”_

            It had been 8 months since Sevastopol. 8 months of dealing with night terrors and jumping at shadows and trying to hold down a steady job while avoiding Weyland-Yutani. It had been hard going, but Amanda Ripley felt like she was starting to get a grip on her life.

            And then Samuels had started to break down under his own stress.

            It had started with little things, like losing time and asking Amanda why she was home early, when she was actually late. Or he would repeat tasks he’d completed before, like going down to the nearby convenience store and buying eggs... to add to the three dozen already in the fridge. It had been odd, but Amanda had figured that some sort of timekeeping and task-managing software had gotten fuddled up, and it wasn’t a terribly big deal anyways. Samuels merely laughed it off with a joke of “getting old”, and Amanda, still struggling with her own problems, had accepted that things were fine.

            It was harder to ignore when the paranoia started to kick in. He’d be up at all times of the day checking and re-checking the security of their tiny apartment, watching the neighbours and getting suspicious of any slight deviation in routine. He’d started calling Amanda at work at increasingly frequent intervals to check on her, to the point where her boss was starting to threaten termination if the calls didn’t cease. Samuels still insisted that there was nothing wrong, just he was worrying about her, and the possibility of the Company coming after them for what they knew, and to reclaim their property (namely, himself). Amanda didn’t really believe him, but she was so busy trying to keep up with expenses and her own psychoses that she’d filed her suspicions away.

            And then the shut-downs started happening. Samuels would cease to function, looking for all the world like a comatose person miraculously standing up, at first for only a few minutes, then more, stretching to hours of unresponsiveness as time went on. Each time, Amanda was terrified he would never come back, and she had a suspicion it had started happening long before she’d been around to see it happening.

            One day, while she was attempting to run a diagnostic to determine the problem, Samuels looked at her with sad, brown eyes and said, “Amanda, I cannot keep going like any longer. I am supposed to be taking care of _you_ , but...”

            “It’s fine, Samuels,” she’d insisted, glancing from the computer screen. She was an engineer for spacecraft, software really wasn’t her forte, and it wasn’t like Weyland-Yutani was free with the information about their synthetics.

            “No, Amanda, it is not,” he’d said firmly. “This will continue until I fail completely, or... or I lose control of myself.” He’d looked down at the floor, brow furrowed. “I do not want to hurt you.”

            “You’re not going to,” she’d said, “You’ll be fine, I can fix this, I—”

            A warm hand touched her arm, and she’d stopped. “Amanda, you are a remarkably capable woman,” he’d said gently. “In many things, I would trust you above all else.”

            “But not when it matters,” she’d said thickly, looking away. After a moment, she asked, “There’s... there’s only one option, isn’t there?”

            “Yes,” he’d said wearily. “It would appear that despite our best efforts, we need Weyland-Yutani after all.”

            There’d been a lot of arguing, and yelling, and the breaking of things, pretty much entirely by Amanda, although even Samuels was raising his voice before she’d stormed out. She’d gotten a few blocks away before breaking down into hysterical sobbing. There was no way that Samuels would come back if he went to Weyland-Yutani. He might not even remain Samuels, mind-wiped and reprogrammed to better fit the company ideals, if he wasn’t outright destroyed as a defective ‘product’.

            What was she going to do without him? Beyond being the only thing stopping her from complete and utter mental collapse after the horrific events in Sevastopol, she knew that she’d long stopped considering him as merely a friend. He was more than just a helpful synthetic, but she’d never been able to muster the courage to say so. Now it was looking like she’d never get the chance.

            After quietly weeping on a secluded park bench for an hour, she made her way back to the apartment, dragging her feet as if taking her time would make all the problems get bored and go away. She even opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

            Fumbling with her keycard, she opened the door, half-fearing he’d already gone and left while she’d had her tantrum, but it was just anxious paranoia; Samuels was not the type to just up and leave without a word, and when she shuffled inside, of course there he was, right where she’d left him in the kitchen-turned-robotics-repair. He looked as he always did, looking melancholic and, although it might have been her imagination, utterly exhausted.

            Amanda stared at him from the doorway, aware that she must have looked awful, with a blotchy face and puffy eyes and a red nose. She knew Samuels wouldn’t care beyond being concerned about her emotional wellbeing — as if he wasn’t worse off.

            He was the first to break their gaze, looking to the side as if ashamed... perhaps he was, because his next words were, “I have already made the call.” They were soft, matter-of-fact, and utterly devastating to Amanda. “They will come tomorrow. In exchange for all of my data on the... Sevastopol incident, they say they will assess the damage to my functions and see if it can be repaired.” An out-of-character, cynical smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We will see if they keep their word,” he finished, and the way he said it made it abundantly clear he didn’t believe they would.

            Her mouth trembling, she got out “Oh, _Samuels_ ,” before her voice broke on fresh sobs and she rushed towards him, flinging her arms around him to hold him close as she cried again, choking out unintelligible apologies while he tightly hugged her back, his cheek resting on top of her head as he told her the gentle lie that it would be alright.

            They remained that way a while, and when Amanda resisted the suggestion that she get some sleep, Samuels gently manoeuvred her onto the couch, still holding her in his arms. _When the fuck did you become such a weepy damsel?_ She angrily thought to herself.  _You should be comforting Samuels, he’s the one who’s going to lose_ everything _and here you are feeling sorry for yourself and getting him to comfort you._ What an awful friend she was.

            “No, Amanda, you have been a wonderful friend,” he assured her, and she realised she’d said it out loud. “The best a synthetic could ever hope for. These past 8 months, I could pretend I was really human, and that is the greatest gift you could give to me. I am only sorry that...” He paused, his hands tensing a moment, and then he sighed. “Well, I suppose it does not matter now.”

            Morning came too soon, and in what felt like no time at all there came a rapid knock on the door. Reluctantly she opened the door, even more aware of what a disaster she must look, to two serious-looking men in Company uniform. “Please cooperate, ma’am,” said one, as if he could see a lingering thread of defiance in the broken woman before him. “We only require the synthetic.” A subtle threat, because they could so, so easily take her, too.

            She nodded sullenly, stepping aside to let them in. Samuels was already standing, looking like the perfect synthetic, all well-behaved and calm, a stark contrast to the emotional wreck that she was. She didn’t listen to what was said, the matter-of-fact clip of the men and Samuel’s gentle affirmations, and was silent as they began to leave. She couldn’t even dredge up those terrible, final words, _good-bye._

            Samuels paused as he passed by, and to the two Company men, from their poor vantage point just outside the door, it looked as if he was saying some last goodbye or assurance in her ear. Instead, though, he gently kissed her cheek, and with a crashing realisation Amanda knew the end to Samuel’s apology.

            He started to go, and she grabbed his shirt to stop him. “One month,” she hissed raggedly, hoping the men couldn’t hear. “I’m giving you one month to come back to me. Or I’m coming to get you myself.”

            A small smile touched his lips, sad and hopeful all at once, so strangely human, and yet perhaps not so strange at all. “Of course, Amanda. I am yours, after all.”

           

            The apartment was distressingly quiet after they’d all gone, Amanda sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at a patch of wall, because it was the only place that had nothing to do with Samuels. The apartment was rife with various memories, some good, some bad, some the blessedly, perfectly mundane, and if she let herself think about them she’d start bawling all over again.

            She glanced at the calendar hanging from her wall, some disgustingly cutesy thing that Samuels had picked-out, because _someone_ had to be organised in their apartment. Various dates were circled with notes, reminders to pick up things, psychiatric appoints, the mundanity of life. Who was going to keep track, now that Samuels was gone?

            Amanda’s jaw tensed, her mouth pressed into a thin grimace. “One month,” she said to the calendar, before getting up to get dressed for work.

**Author's Note:**

> (Lyrics and story title from the Evanescence song "Before the Dawn" which I felt was distressingly appropriate).
> 
> Hi, my name is Sol and I'm a HORRIBLE MONSTER. Sorry for the super-downer ending, but uh... I guess you can imagine it turns out alright in the end.


End file.
